


Blue Exorcist: The Sorta Violent Zombie AU

by thatreallyshittydude



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatreallyshittydude/pseuds/thatreallyshittydude
Summary: Back at it again with the weird AUs! So this one's a Zombie Apocalypse one. Shiro and Rin are separated from Yukio, and discover that Shiro was bitten. A wide array of feels soon appeared. Also no death is actually depicted (Though heavily implied) and the 'depiction of violence' is pretty mild in my opinion, but the warnings felt necessary. Once more, swearing warning. Enjoy!(Idea was suggested by missblurose on Tumblr)





	

Rin shut the door, locking it as many times as the mechanism allowed. He unloaded his sword on the floor. “We’re safe for now.” Shiro sighed in relief, ignoring the pain in his sides. ‘Good. Did you see where Yukio went?’  
Rin couldn’t answer. Fear struck him. “N-No. Last time I caught a glimpse of him he tried to divide the greenies by taking a right.”  
‘Same. I say we recharge for thirty minutes and go save his sorry ass. ’  
Rin chuckled. “I guess we can afford half an hour. He has guns, after all. Remind me again why Yukio gets TWO guns while I have to use a oversized shish kebab stick?”  
‘You’re the older brother, you get the family heirloom.’ Shiro said with a dead-serious look in his eyes.  
“Right. And you, Mr. Most-Experienced-One, do nothing and rely on us because…”   
They both sat down, leaned against a wall.  
‘Because I’m old and worn and my sons are supposed to take care of me in my later years.’  
“Sure thing. C'mon, we can’t relax until we check for bites. Lift up your shirt.”  
Shiro froze. Lifting his shirt would mean… 'It’s fine. I patted myself down when we got in.’  
“You know as well as I do that that isn’t enough, Old Man. Not feeling blood just means it hasn’t started bleeding yet. Shirt.”  
Shiro was mortified. He lifted his shirt slowly, revealing the gaping wound. It pourd blood as its impromptu bandage, AKA a fairy tight-fitting shirt, was removed.  
Rin was struck with reality. He was staring at a dead man. He’s gonna have to put a sword through his father’s neck. “Oh, come the fuck on. How long were you planning on hiding that?”  
'As long as it takes to find Yukio.’  
Well that was just a stupid answer. “Are you. Fucking. Serious?! Do you realize how fucking quickly that shit sets in? You have two hours, tops.”  
Shiro remained calm. He had to be the voice of reason here. 'You think I don’t know that? I hoped to spare you the stress of killing your dad and not knowing the fate of your brother on the same day.’  
“You’re an idiot. A complete. Fucking. Idiot. A good father tells his son that he got bitten by a fucking zombie!”  
Shiro began to unravel as well. 'You’re right! I should’ve told you! I should’ve screamed and fell and let the greenies eat me up like hot sukiyaki! But I didn’t, and that’s the situation we’re in. Feel free to blame me later, but right now the priority is finding Yukio. We’ll get that done, then we deal with this.’  
Rin calmed down a bit. Shiro yelling was such a rare sight, it’d shut anyone up. “Alright. But I’m not letting you off the hook. Toss me that chain.”  
'You’re putting me on a leash?’  
Rin slightly snapped at the dumb question.  
“Yes! I’m putting you on a goddamn leash! Because that’s what you do with animals! Now hand me the fucking chain!” He went too far. They both knew that.  
Shiro stood up, took the chain, and stood in front of Rin wrists together, all in complete silence. Rin tied him up. “Good. Now let’s go.” He unlocked and kicked the door open, sword in hand. “I’m sorry.” He knew those would probably be the last words he’d tell his father.


End file.
